


Standing on Ceremony

by JackOfNone



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Aphrodisiacs, Bukkake, Cultural Misunderstandings, Gangbang, Incompatible Anatomy, M/M, Painful Sex, Spitroasting, Unreasonably Large Dicks, with spikes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-30
Updated: 2018-06-30
Packaged: 2019-05-31 09:25:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,984
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15116510
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JackOfNone/pseuds/JackOfNone
Summary: Steppe diplomacy is a great deal more than Hien bargained for.





	Standing on Ceremony

**Author's Note:**

  * For [gamera (Megan)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Megan/gifts).



> A liberty or two has been taken here with au ra physiology (and not just in the dick area) for the sake of porn (and, hey, I wanted them to be at least a TOUCH more monster-like, so why not).

In all honesty, being kidnapped wasn’t going too badly so far. 

Of course, this was hardly your standard kidnapping. Yugiri had been dubious when a Buduga envoy had approached them with the proposal of a ceremonial abduction – the Buduga seemed to have some suffered some falling-out with their former Oronir allies and were eager, near desperate even, to call the khagan’s friend their own. By all appearances they had finally given up on making him one of the tribe and were now merely suing for a formal alliance, but honor would not be satisfied by simple words and treaties. Kidnapping and imprisonment, even a ceremonial one that would be ended after a set period of a few days and a little bit of wine and brawling, was unbecoming of a prince, or so Yugiri had claimed. Hien had reminded her that he’d already been the Buduga’s prisoner once, and that he’d spent some years roughing it on the steppes in any case and had never been much of a stickler for what was or was not becoming of a prince. Yugiri had pursed her lips and said nothing more, but Hien suspected that she was actually quite worried about him. 

Charming, that girl, and loyal to a fault. Despite all her objections, she’d carried his word of agreement to the Buduga herself. 

And so it was that some days later, as Hien drilled with a wooden sword alone under the clear Yanxia sky, a group of some ten Buduga riders surrounded him, threw him over the saddle after a token show of resistance, and rode without stopping back to their encampment on the edge of the steppes with the Lord of Doma in tow. Once arrived, Hien was slightly surprised to see he had been abducted directly into the middle of some kind of party. It became quickly apparent that this, too, was part of the ceremony -- the Buduga celebrated the capture of a new tribesman with a days-long revel that could put some of the more decadent aristocrats in the cities to shame. It didn't take long for Hien to grasp the spirit of the thing.

His Buduga captors had bound his hands with some sort of soft red cord, though not tightly – this was all still ceremonial, after all. The cord was loose enough that he could still use his hands well enough as long as he didn't need to reach behind him, and his bound wrists were attached to a slack lead firmly gripped in the claw of his "guard". Ostensibly he was a prisoner, but he could roam in a circle that encompassed a good half of the revel tent, and eat and drink if handed a copper cup of some sort of thick, sticky-sweet fruit wine. 

Hien had been handed a lot of copper cups of this wine since his kidnapping. The warrior responsible for ‘guarding’ him, a tall fellow with glossy black hair braided into plaits and who had apparently had one of his horns hacked clean off with an axe at some point, had explained that this peculiar draft was brewed special for celebrations of this kind, from some heady steppe fruit with a long foreign name that Hien had never heard of before, much less tasted. 

It would have been impolitic to refuse, but luckily it tasted quite delightful once you got past the slightly-thicker-than-wine texture of it, and Hien felt quite capable of holding his drink. The stuff was powerful, but nothing he couldn’t handle. After a few cups of it, the pleasantly familiar haze of alcohol started to set in and Hien found himself growing talkative; it seemed all the Buduga tribesmen around him spoke Eorzean -- though they did so with a thick, deeply-pitched accent that Hien found rather alluring once he got used to it -- and were pleased enough to banter with him.

Inside the tent it was hot and humid. The summer sun, still in the midst of setting, bore down upon the encampment and filtered through the thinner parts of the walls and ceiling, coloring the entire place a riot of red and orange and gold. The ground was a thick layer of carpets and cushions and plush furs; the air smelled of incense and leather and sweat and drink. Off in one corner, someone played a tune on some stringed instrument while two of his comrades danced together, shaking bells and tiny cymbals in time. Around a low table and a flickering oil lamp, several warriors passed around a jug of their strange sweet drink and tore into steaming cuts of meat with their sharp teeth. Outside, there was the sound of rough-housing and the raucous laughter of fighting men. 

Honestly, it was the kind of heady atmosphere that one might get lost in. Far preferable, Hien thought, to the stuffy boardrooms and meeting-halls where Eorzea’s nobility glowered at each other over precisely-worded contracts, each waiting for the other to slip up. Maybe the Great Alliances could stand to learn a thing or two. 

“Bring me the prisoner!” someone shouted, from the vicinity of the table. A chorus of “bring him over!” answered the call, and the guard gave Hien a smirk and pulled on the lead attached to the red cord binding his wrists. Hien jerked back before complying. Wouldn’t do to be TOO docile, of course. 

His guard pulled him over to the low table, prodding him in the small of the back with his boot until he fell to his knees. The warrior who had called for him was massive, even by the standards of the xaela - sitting on the ground and leaning on the low table he towered over Hien kneeling. Hien would have had to stand up to look him in the eye. He’d obviously seen quite a bit of battle – scars criss-crossed his taut, ruddy skin, and his horns and scales were chipped and tarnished – but he must have emerged victorious from all of them, judging by the self-satisfied smirk he gave his “prisoner” and the golden chains wound around his horns – a luxury that the austere Buduga, who valued feats of arms more than jewelry and silks, might ordinarily look down upon. 

The warrior took Hien’s chin in one massive, clawed hand, turning his face this way and that to examine it in the lamplight. Hien felt his cheeks flush red; here, close to the Buduga warrior, he could almost feel the heat radiating off his skin, and smell the strange heady mix of sweat and musk wafting from him.

Flirting was something that was in Hien's nature -- it came to him as easily as breathing, but he'd always been the type to prefer the hunt to the feast, as they said. The fiery glances, the exchange of innuendo, well-timed compliments and subtle, stolen touches...he'd always been fairly indiscriminate about that sort of thing, but ultimately cautious about who he actually took to bed. Breaking hearts was one thing, but shattering reputations was another -- getting a princely bastard would be a disaster for all involved.

Maybe he’d had a bit too much wine indeed, but he’d been secretly quite flattered when the Buduga tribesmen had been fighting amongst themselves to get a glimpse of his physical skill, and he was feeling no less flattered now. Men couldn't get bastards with each other, Hien found himself thinking, before he could wave the thought away. He shifted a bit on his knees, and the massive Buduga warrior let go of his chin and laughed at something Hien did not quite understand. 

“I don't find you unimpressive for a scaleless foreigner,” he said. The decorated warrior was still looking at him, the lamplight making his kohl-rimmrd eyes look like smoldering coals set into a fire-pit. Hien wondered if this was the way women felt when they painted their faces and adorned themselves in fine gowns -- a heady rush of hedonistic pride in knowing you could command the gaze of onlookers, and wicked sort of joy in wondering what you could do with that gaze.

“Well!” he said, and grinned, brandishing his empty wine cup with his bound hands. Someone took that opportunity to refill it, and the intoxicating sweet bruised-fruit smell of it flooded Hien's mouth and nose as he went to take a gulp. Something in the back of his head told him he should really stop drinking, but there were stronger urges than sense starting to pull at him. This was a celebration, after all, and he ought to do as the celebrants here did. "I've a yol, fought an army, and helped turn a tribe of lambs into tigers. If any man here thinks me unfit because of my stature or my lack of scales," he said, giving the warrior a wry gaze over the lip of the wine cup, "I invite him to come and test my mettle."

He drank it down, and felt dizzy, and warm from throat to belly. The Buduga warrior who was examining him leaned down, twisted a lock of Hien’s hair around one massive claw, and Hien swore he could feel the whole of his scalp tingling as though he was about to be struck by lightning. The warrior was strong, well-built, and – Hien noticed quite suddenly, for the dark scales covering patches of the man’s body gave the impression of clothing – quite nearly naked, save for a rough loincloth drawn taut between his legs and a few pieces of gold and bronze jewelry draped and clasped across his chest and arms. 

For the first time, it occurred to him to actually wonder just what was in the wine they had all been drinking, because he was finding himself feeling more restless by the moment. Restless, and...well, having so many eyes sizing him up, kneeling in front of this impressive and nearly-naked warrior, coyly inviting him to tests of strength...it was all rather arousing, actually. This jewelry-draped au ra clearly had some lustful intentions in mind -- and judging by the way some of the Buduga had been carrying on with each other in discreet corners of the celebration tent, such intentions were hardly uncommon here. Maybe Hien was more drunk than he realized, or maybe the raucous atmosphere of masculine camaraderie was getting to him, but gods help him if he wasn't responding.

“Lambs into tigers!” the warrior repeated, laughing. “Such poetry! And if it's a test of mettle you offer, would-be brother,” he said, wrapping the red cord around his hand, "then this Buduga would be happy to accept."

“Try me,” Hien replied with a small smirk. The warrior pulled at the lock of hair, tilting Hien’s head up, and gave him a raucous grin. Hien leaned forward. 

Hien hadn't ever been with a man before. The thought had crossed his mind once or twice, under the right circumstances, but... Hien's mind was currently blank of objections. It felt as though he was barely thinking at all, actually, instead reacting on some base instinct that had been stirred up in him. 

“We could–” Hien started, his eyes drifting to the barely-covered swell that was now roughly eye-level. “–retire somewhere more private, perhaps?” 

The jeweled warrior laughed heartily at this, as though Hien had said something dreadfully funny, and responded by digging his bare foot into Hien’s lap, the ball of his foot grinding against his half-hard cock, claws pricking him just barely through the fabric of his hakama.

The feeling of contact, even through the fabric, was electric – a jolt of arousal that was so powerful it was almost painful, every muscle along his thighs and torso clenching up involuntarily in anticipation. By the time his vision cleared and the vague sensation crept into the back of his wine-soaked mind that this wasn’t quite ordinary, the Buduga warrior with the jeweled horns had somehow gotten ahold of his lead and pulled him right between his powerful scaled thighs, his cheek resting against the rock-hard bulge. 

All right, Hien thought, when he could manage thoughts. He’d rather not be doing this out in the open, but the rest of the war-band seemed to be occupied with their own pleasures for the most part, and it’s not like he was on his knees in front of his subjects. Even a man of his position could be afforded a reckless decision or two. 

The warrior pulled aside the cloth, and Hien was now face-to-face with the xaela’s cock. He’d seen au ra anatomy before, in bath houses as a child before the fall of Doma, but never up close, and never standing to attention like this. The cock was tapered, lacking the bulbous tip that characterized the phalluses of other Spoken, but that was where its merciful qualities ended – the thing was ridged, ringed at the base with rough dark scales in place of hair, and SPINED – invisible in its unaroused state, the warrior’s cock had a ring of short, thick backwards-facing spine-like scales towards the base that promised a painful withdrawal. 

It was also large enough that Hien struggled to get his lips around it, as the Buduga warrior was already guiding it into his ceremonial captive’s mouth almost before Hien could register what he was seeing. The taste of sweat and musk filled his nostrils as the comparatively slender head of the au ra’s cock slid along his tongue, leaving a trail of slick fluid; the taste was startlingly not unpleasant, and he found himself teasing along the bottom of the xaela’s member and seizing it around the shaft with his hands. The bejeweled warrior made a rumbling, purr-like noise at this, and Hien pressed himself forward into the ball of the warrior’s foot. 

This could be going worse, he though hazily, though he did feel sorry for au ra women, small as they were. It must be no mean feat for them to please their husbands when they carry weapons like this. 

Hien slid his tongue lazily along the Buduga warrior’s cock. In fact, the exotic form was rather arousing once one really considered it. Making a strong warrior near twice his size purr like a kitten also certainly had its appeal…he could see where women grew to have a taste for it. It was like every noise the warrior made went straight to his groin, making his cock ache for attention.

Almost as if he’d said his thoughts aloud – and for a moment, through the haze of alcohol, Hien was concerned that he had – Hien felt hands slide around his waist to paw at his thighs. All of a sudden there was a second body looming over his back, stroking him as though he’d been invited. Hien slid his mouth off the bejeweled warrior’s cock and turned his head to protest the new addition, but he found his chin caught in what must have seemed, to the xaela, to be a slightly rough thumb and forefinger. To Hien, it was a vise grip. 

“Ah, you’re hardly done yet,” the bejeweled one growled, his voice low and husky. “Brothers of the Buduga must carry through.” And he pulled Hien back down, forcing the slick tip of his cock back into his mouth before Hien could even make a noise of protest. Whoever was behind him seized him by the hips and jerked his hindquarters upwards roughly, and Hien choked as he barely caught himself on the jeweled warrior’s thighs, gagging as the motion slid him down onto the ridged shaft further than he had expected to go. The girth of it further down pried his jaws open until his teeth scraped against the rigid flesh, but the warrior seemed to love the sensation – he made another low growl and tapped under Hien’s chin, as though encouraging him to bite. 

The man behind him had made short work of his hakama, so he was now naked below the waist. Had he the breath to do so, Hien might have hissed at the sudden feeling of cool air on his rock-hard cock before the xaela’s warm palm wrapped him up, fingers near as thick as a cock themselves tugging and prodding at his member, the friction of flesh on flesh pooling heat in the pit of his belly. The man’s other hand was pawing at the curve of his ass now, stroking along the base of his spine and downwards, dripping with something thick and fragrant and cool. 

Hien was worldly enough that when he felt pressure against his entrance, he was unsurprised. At least, he thought, this one hasn’t got claws like his brother here – brother, that was the word, that was what they all called themselves. First knuckle, then second, and the fact that he could feel the contour of the au ra’s digit as it slid into him was almost more humiliating than the liberties being taken with him. At least – small mercies – the man’s other hand stayed lazily stroking his cock. Gods, he was going to spend if he kept that up, but then maybe the other man would be satisfied with him. Up, down, the jeweled warrior guided his head, cock twitching on his tongue. Hien could tell the xaela wasn't pumping with all his might, perhaps trying to accommodate for Hien's relatively smaller size, but it made little difference even so. Even less than halfway in it was deep enough to stab into the back of his throat, leaving him struggling to breathe, coughing and gagging with every thrust, shallow as they were. It all but tore the fight out of him, leaving him boneless in the grip of the two xaela. 

And then, with a great purring groan that Hien no longer felt quite so delighted by, the jeweled warrior slid all the way out of his mouth and spent in thick ropes over Hien’s lips and chin. He slumped against the xaela’s stool, between his thighs, and with the cock removed from his mouth he was almost alarmingly aware of the other au ra still toying with him, holding him by the hips and probing inside of him like a child trying to break a clockwork toy. Was it the effects of the wine that made his vision swim every time the xaela crooked his fingers inside of him, sending electric jolts of pleasure down his spine through the sting and the shame of it? 

He was close now. Close, and then that would be the end of –

“Ah!” The au ra who had spent himself inside Hien’s mouth stood up, leaving Hien slumped over the stool. Brusquely he tucked his cock back inside the leather thong and gestured to the man next to him – the one-horned guard, who still kept hold of the lead around Hien’s wrists. Loosely tied, it was still enough to prevent him from reaching behind himself. “Blunt teeth,” the jeweled warrior leered at his companion, as though this were some exotic and desirable quality – and it did seem to interest the one-horned guard. He raised one scaled brow and, without so much as a word to Hien, seized him by the hair and forced his own cock into his mouth. It slid in easily, slickly coated in his tribemate’s seed. The thick taste of it stuck to Hien’s tongue. 

/That’s the strength of the Buduga,/ Cirina had said. /They never squabble among themselves. Not over land, or gold, or mates. Everything one of them has, all of them have./ 

How many of them were there in the tent? Hien couldn’t remember. Would they all want their turn? The one-horned guard held him fast by the hair and, thank the gods, was smaller than his companion – gentler, too, or at least he seemed not to want Hien to gag. Not that it was easy, with sticky globs of the previous man’s semen slid down into his throat with every thrust. This was different – so different – from kneeling of his own accord between his chosen bedmate’s knees and licking him until he moaned, but the au ra did not seem to understand the difference, not from the way he slid his hands through Hien’s hair approvingly, brushed his thumbs across his cheek, and cooed encouraging noises at him. 

Everything one of them has, all of them have. Of course.

Whoever was behind him withdrew his probing fingers and stroking palm. Mixed blessing – Hien shuddered in relief at one less invasive digit, but the retreat left him aching on the edge of orgasm, cock hard enough that it felt almost painful to breath, as even that slight movement made him keenly aware of the throbbing between his legs. For a brief moment Hien wondered if they were just going to leave him to finish himself off if it pleased him once he’d done servicing as many warriors as wanted their turn, but that was put to rest the moment he felt something rigid and larger than a finger or even two or three pressing into the cleft of his ass, sliding there slicked with more fragrant oil. 

Panic, real actual panic, hit the forefront of Hien’s mind through the haze of the wine. He pulled back from the one-horned guard’s cock – he’d gripped it around the scaly, spiny base and was suddenly acutely aware of its sheer size. “That won’t –” he sputtered, through the mess of semen and saliva coating his face. Whoever was behind him now – the same man, a different one, it hardly mattered – laughed, and patted him on the small of the back. Another voice behind him commented leeringly on his lack of a tail – apparently it enhanced the view. 

“Nonsense,” one of the men behind him said. Hands – clawed hands, pressing hard enough to raise pinpricks of blood – seized Hien around the hips to steady him. Against so many, in a position like this, Hien thought, his struggling must look like lewd squirming, and the thought made his face burn with humiliation. “Our tallest womenfolk are a full few hands-lengths shorter than you, and several stones lighter, and they take our cocks gladly. Surely a man can do no less.” 

Before Hien could protest that, small as they might be, au ra womenfolk were still /au ra/, the warrior fed the tip of his cock into Hien’s hole. Weakened as he was already by whatever concoction he’d been drinking – and gods, he regretted it, the pleasant haze of drunkenness and arousal had long since faded into a gnawing, aching need and an unwilling display of /willingness/ – the comparatively smaller end of the au ra’s cock was forced inside him with embarrassing ease. A strangled, guttural yelp of surprise and pain was lost as the other man took the moment to slide his cock back into Hien’s open mouth, smothering his protests into choking, ambiguous moans. It was all he could do to keep breathing.

The au ra fucking him from behind pulled him back as the one in front of him jerked his hips forward, driving into his throat in a sickening rhythm. Once inside there was nowhere for the cock inside his ass to go but deeper, the sheer girth of it already stretching him near to breaking before the first hard ridge began to press against his flesh from the outside. Surely, Hien thought wildly, they’d realize that au ra must be different inside by now. Surely they’d stop now, as any more might kill him. 

The ridge of the au ra’s cock pushed and pushed, its owner making a grunt of frustration, and then all at once all resistance gave out. Hien choked on the cock in his throat in agony, his vision swirling red at the edges, and to his distant disappointment did not die. 

Instead, he was impaled on both ends – and impaled was the word, surely he must have been wounded or his legs would not be shaking with agony now – as the two au ra found their rhythm in battering him. Each movement of the one behind him felt like a handful of razors raked across his insides – and almost worse than the pain, which was at least familiar, the au ra’s bulbous cock was pressing up against some sensitive spot inside him with almost unbearable force. Here he was, on all fours being helplessly fucked to pieces, and he could feel the beginnings of a powerful orgasm pooling at the base of his own cock. 

Something wet and sticky spilled across his back. A warm, sweat-slick hand closed around Hien’s cock and for a brief flashing second everything became pain and pleasure all in extremes and all at once. The hand was wandering, though, and to Hien’s ultimate humiliation no one was even touching him when he finally spilled over the edge into the dizzying blackness of climax – just the massive shaft filling him up and the hot press of other bodies crowding around him. The cock in his mouth spent down his throat moments after, spurred on by Hien’s attempt to make noise; he was by now too exhausted to do anything but swallow and choke and wait for another to replace him. 

“Enjoying yourself, aren’t you!” The man fucking him said, and swatted him playfully. It was clearly not a question, but a statement of what seemed to the Buduga around him to be obvious fact. A few more strokes and he was spent too, the heat of it searing like fire inside him. Was he bleeding? He must be. How rough were these warriors among each other? The au ra withdrew and Hien had been pried open so wide in every direction that the sudden emptiness was its own kind of ache as abused muscle and flesh was left quivering and raw. 

Another cock – the same one? A different man? – soon replaced it. Whoever seized his head next seemed to prefer to spend on his face and hair rather than fuck his mouth, but his pleasure was soon over with and another took his place, forcing a cock past his lips. He had no more resistance left in him. Other men criss-crossed his back with stripes of their seed, toyed with his hair, stroked his cock back to painful throbbing hardness, raked their claws along his sides and made comments both admiring and lewd that Hien barely heard. After the second man came inside of him he lost track of who and how long and how many. 

Only when whoever moved to take him from behind instead seized him around the waist was Hien finally jolted out of his haze. The au ra hoisted him upwards like a doll – and the scaled man was easily large enough that his hands almost encircled Hien’s waist – and set him on his lap, cock sliding between his thighs. Maybe this meant they were done with his mouth, Hien thought distantly. The backward spines on the base of the man’s cock scratched into his thighs, and the tip of it pressed against his belly. 

No one had penetrated him down to the hilt yet. He had no idea what those spines would do to him. Perhaps nothing that had not already been done. 

It mattered little what he thought, though. The tall warrior was picking him up again, setting him down on his cock this time, his abused hole readily accepting the tip. Up, down – the au ra was enough larger than Hien that he could simply slide him up and down on his cock a few inches, much to the amusement of his fellow Buduga warriors. 

A few more strokes, deeper each time. Deeper. Deeper. This new position made the au ra’s cock feel even longer than the others, probing so far inside him it made his stomach lurch. And still there was more to take – he felt the smooth, hard edges of scales pressing at his over-sensitive, ragged hole. 

He slid down another agonizing inch, and felt himself quiver shut. The blunt barbs dug into his flesh from the inside, the strangeness of the sensation adding to the pain of it – like something was clawing at him from inside his own body. He was stuck fast, entirely at the xaela's mercy -- if he withdrew now, he'd surely be ripped apart.

The au ra ran his hands along each side of Hien’s trembling body, as though his whole body was an extension of the man’s cock, rolling his – gods, still hard, still twitching – cock between his fingers. How long Hien was pinned there he could scarcely tell -- moments stretched into hours as he tried desperately not to move, not to dig those claws inside him deeper. The au ra’s climax was sudden, explosive – he came gripping Hien’s arms hard, and with such volume that Hien could feel feel it flooding inside him. He was held there for a moment – on the edge of conscious, coated with semen inside and out, with a too-large cock held inside him with sharp spikes like a cruel plug – before finally, after what seemed like an eternity, the man’s rock-solid cock began to lose its rigidity. Once near flaccid the spikes could slide out, but not without scraping against his raw insides enough to make him cry out as he slipped to the floor in an exhausted heap.

Hien lay on his side for a moment, in far too much pain to move, and bile rose in his throat as he realized he could feel the combined seed of half the Buduga tribesmen running down his leg like sticky bathwater. It was all he could do not to vomit when the smell of meat filled his nostrils. Distantly, he realized that someone had set down a plate of food next to his head, as well as a full water-skin and a knife.

"Take the knife and cut your bonds, Buduga, when you're sober enough to stand!" someone said, by way of congratulations, as Hien slipped gratefully unconscious.


End file.
